


The Detective, The Government Agent, and The Terrorist (Marigold Part 1)

by Meriperidot



Series: Marigold [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Apparently the Fields Sisters are 'Government Bitches' now, Austin no stay away from the psychopath, Austin you fangirl, Awkwardness, College Roommates, Dahlia is an overprotective older sister, Gen, Hidden Passages, Lisa is an idiot, May is a sweetheart, Melopmene Dorm Girls, No Relationships (For Now), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, POV First Person, Poppy might be an actual psychopath, Semi-Realistic Fiction, Tags will be updated as the Story continues, Trying to parody detective stories but ends up being just like them, Written in the form of a blog (to some extent), also the police don't TOTALLY despise Marigold's existence she can be useful, illegally entering buildings, kidnappings, lockpicking, murders, quadruplets, references to other fandoms - Freeform, we don't care about motive here because I'm struggling with my update schedule, yes iron gall will become a running joke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-03-09 20:38:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18924577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meriperidot/pseuds/Meriperidot
Summary: Anabelle Austin starts medical school hoping to survive, meet new people, and have fun.When she meets her roommate, Marigold Fields, all of that gets thrown out the window in favor of living a fantasy she thought was childish and impossible.





	1. And So She Sang A Requiem

When I enrolled in Red Oaks’ medical program, I applied for a random roommate because I didn't care. What I got when I moved in after orientation was someone more amazing than I had initially hoped for. Of course, you wouldn't have gotten that from the first words she said to me, which were:

"The name's Marigold. Just Marigold. And you'd better not complain about me playing piano at 4 AM."

Somehow, she had already unpacked her things. Her side of the room looked neat now, but it wouldn't stay that way for long. Compared to what I had seen through glances into other dorms, her things were quite plain. Her sheets were black, the only thing standing out being the blue blanket she had laid on top of it. (There were a few others in similarly muted colors folded at the end of the bed.) Her stationary was blue, and her school bags were either black or gray. 

In terms of clothing, the first outfit I saw her in tended to be the only outfit I saw her in. Looking in her closet revealed very quickly that she had multiple copies of the same thing. Black platform shoes, meant to emphasize her being taller than average. Black tights, dark gray dress, black ribbon to tie her hair back with. The only bit of color in her wardrobe was her small coat, which to me made her look as though she was a young professor. It, too, had black, but it was tweed, and under the black there was cream. 

"Anabelle Austin," I said, offering my hand to her. She took it, though hesitantly.  
"A medical student, then," she said. “Suppose you won’t be completely useless.” It was confusing, but I learned quickly to accept Marigold's deductions. Given enough time, I swear, the girl could figure out the secret to life.   
"How did you know?"  
"With that many textbooks on your bed? Even law students like me don't have that many. Other than law, medical degrees are one of the hardest to get. Process of elimination, really, med students are the only ones with that load. Oh, that and I saw another one in the hallway with the same books." Of course, her books were already neatly stacked on her desk. 

\- - - - -

I saw very little of Marigold for the first 2 months of that year. She always seemed to have her work, and her studying, done far earlier than should be possible, yet spent nearly all of her time in the library. I never saw her interacting with any other students, and if she talked to a teacher, it was on business only. Most nights, I'd hear her come in just after curfew, when I was already half-asleep. She'd stay up, reading as far as I could tell, and true to her word, would sometimes practice piano in the wee hours of the morning. Once, when she was gone, I looked through the few boxes that weren't fully unpacked, which she hid against the wall of her closet, under the empty ones. Inside of those was all manner of other instruments, from violins to flutes. I swear, the girl never gets more than 2 hours of sleep, and still operates more effectively than people who get 12. 

Through the small conversations we had, it became clear she knew far more about me than I did about her. Other than the medical student comment from Day 1, there were several other correct facts about me she threw out when I actually managed to find time to interact with her, including:

"You've got one other sibling, out of state, haven't seen her in several years because your parents are estranged, it’s possible one or more of them is dead. Didn't get along very well, considering you don't have any actual pictures."

"You're deathly afraid of dogs. From how natural the reaction seems to be now, I'm guessing it's a sustained fear from when you were a child. You back away, like you don't want it to notice you at all, maintain distance, far more than you would if it had only bitten you. By that logic, it must have chased you."

"You're a fangirl. I hate fangirls, but I'll humor you. I can't tell of what sort specifically, unfortunately, but you're a girl, which narrows down the field significantly, because chances are the story has primarily male cast. You clearly view yourself as some sort of equivalent to one of the characters, because when you're with your friends you wear clothes that you'd never wear to class, fake a limp, and walk around with that cane that you hide in the closet. I might be more inclined to forgive you for your habits if you'd tell me what story you happen to be so in love with."

Yeah, all of those were correct. That said, things became exceedingly more interesting on one day in particular. As I got back from class, I found Marigold in the dorm, and around midday at that, which was rare enough on its own. Even odder, she seemed more energetic, and was clicking between tabs on her laptop at light speed, as though she didn't actually need to read anything in the articles. A faint audio track played from the laptop’s speakers, from a video in an inactive tab. I could only make out half of what it said.  
"Bodies... Instruments... Serial... Has yet to be identified..."

But from what I heard, it didn't take me long to figure out what Marigold was looking at. News stories about the killings that had been happening on campus.   
"Wait," I started. "You? Researching SERIAL KILLINGS?"  
"Hobby," she responded, changing tabs yet again and not even bothering to look at me.  
"But you? MARIGOLD. The resident genius who could tell someone the exact date and time, and the general location, of their birth, after just a short conversation? DO YOU REALIZE WHAT THIS MEANS?"  
"Oh. This has something to do with your stupid fan-girl tendencies, right?" She said, finally pausing the news report. She pushed her chair away from the desk and turned around to look at me. "What are you wearing?"  
"Just... One of those 'other' outfits you mentioned, the ones I don't take to class."  
"Oh, so you were with your friends after class. What color is it?"  
"What do you mean, both my shirt and pants are brown, isn't that obvious?"  
"Not to me, who's colorblind to 2 out of 3 primary colors. I only see in blue. I’ve been practicing recognizing colors for a long time now, but some are still a bit difficult. Dark grey, or black? Periwinkle, or white? Dark orange, or brown? That said, what's so fascinating about me having a hobby of trying to stop criminals?" She got up and started pulling on her shoes and jacket, making a beeline for the door and paying me as little regard as she could.  
"Have you never looked at the internet?"  
"Plenty of times, I was looking at it just now, until you interrupted my research. And I really must be going right now, I believe I know where I need to be to find out more about the bodies."  
"You're basically a female, college student, colorblind Sherlock Holmes!" I yelled at her.  
"Wonderful," she said. "I've gotten that compliment more often than I'd like to admit. Now please don't prevent me from..." She turned around to look at me. "Wait, Austin, you're a medical student."  
"Yes?"  
"A good one, based on how much you seem to study?"  
"Yes."  
"And you've examined dead bodies before?"  
"Um... Yes?"  
"Would you like to see some more?"  
It took me a second to realize she was inviting me to come with her to look for murder victims. Of course, once I did, I only had one response. "Oh god, yes."

\- - - - -

Marigold wasn't lying, she did know exactly where to find the corpse, and it was like a lot of the other ones related to the string of killings. This one, thankfully, was intact. Many of the others had been cut up, sometimes with the pieces scattered. Although, I suppose I owed that to the fact that the murderer had hidden this particular body in a tuba case. 

"How did you know where to find it?" I asked.  
"The campus has named streets running through it. If you look at the first letter of the street that each body was found closest to, they begin to spell out a word. Specifically, the letters are B-A-T-O. Not a lot of words start like that, and considering that the corpses are in instrument cases, it's most likely that the murders are spelling out BATON. And, of course, with this, they are. The street closest to this alleyway is Navajo Street. N. Baton. In this case, probably ‘baton’ as in what one uses to conduct a band. That said, what can you tell me about the body? Quickly. Before the police get here. I don't like dealing with them."  
"The inside of the coat has a last name written in it, the same as the one on the case - Miller. That implies that this body is the same person who played the instrument that used to be in the case, same as with the other victims. He has the same small puncture wound on his neck. I can't tell you much more than what the police have concluded about that - he was given some sort of lethal injection. The body's still relatively warm, implying that he was killed within the last two hours. Based off of how tall he is, without formal measurements, I'd assume he was a... Junior?"  
"Wonderful. The medical things really aren't as important as I'd hoped. Is there anything else you can do?"  
"Not without proper equipment. We have it back in the medical labs, but I'd need samples-"  
Reaching into her pocket, Marigold took out several test tubes, along with a syringe and a knife. She answered my shocked look without hesitation. "I was planning on having to do some of it myself and call in a favor. Take what you need. When you're done, we're going to go run tests. I'll explain to you what I've figured out once we're safely in the lab."

"His hair was brown. The case label was handwritten, and from the glimpse I got of his coat tag, it seems like he did it himself. That lets me know that his handwriting was neat. His outfit was color-coded, and semi-symmetrical. He was a bit thin, but still had some level of fat on him, implying that he may have been dieting to lose it, though I can't fully prove that without asking people who knew him. Anyhow, from that little information, without access to his student file, which I'll have when we get back to the dorm, I can conclude that he was a Libra, likely born in mid-October by how prevalent his tendencies were towards his sun sign, meaning that it must have been fully set in instead of having just entered Libra from another constellation, or it being about to leave it. If that deduction is the whole truth than it's most likely that the murderer was a... Capricorn. Virgos also like things balanced, meaning that they'd get along better with a Libra, so the murderer has to be within than birth range. While serial killers are often assumed to be Geminis because of the famous personality duality, really, they tend to just be at odds with the Zodiac signs of the their victims. The chances of whoever it is being a Capricorn are greatly increased by the fact that looking at the other victims' records, they're also Libras. Although, all of this is speculation based on personality nuance, and really, I need cold, hard data.. Which goes back around to Capricorn. If the killer really is using poison, that sign's all the more likely, because they're famously quite intelligent..."

"Marigold?" I called out, interrupting her rant on astrology. "I've never seen blood like this..." And I mean, I wasn't lying, the stuff was blue.  
"Blue? Are there signs of poison?"  
"Yeah, but not that I recognize."  
She walked over. It didn't take long for her to launch into another explanation tangent. "Iron gall poison. Iron gall is commonly used in inks, but it's also a deadly blood poison. Based on specific type, it can come in different pigments. Quite obviously, they chose one that's blue. Almost makes me wonder if they're trying to taunt me, but chances are it's a coincidence. That said, it's deadly because it contains different forms of... Well, acid. But this is absolutely how he was killed. Injection of iron gall. Would kill anyone, I reckon."  
"Does this help us... ?"  
"A little bit. I bet you there aren't too many people that are Capricorns with access to large amounts of high-potency iron gall. Average ink usually can't kill people, they'd have to be looking for stuff with a high concentration. Unfortunately, I don't have a way of knowing where they got it. Even I'm not able to convince the school to let me looks at student's mail order records."  
"So... What do we do now?"  
"Now, we go back to the dorm, and hope the police don't figure out it was me, or else I will be dealing with the government again and I hate that."  
"Wait what?"  
"Stick with me, it'll all make sense later."

\- - - - -

Back at the dorm, I was treated to yet another of Marigold's many rants. This one began with some very simple words.  
"This killer is an idiot. Serial killers are supposed to have intelligence. This guy made a mistake from the start."   
"And why?" I asked, scared as to how complex her explanation might be.   
"Honestly, I was hoping that this would be wildly more difficult, considering this means I have to present myself to the police faster, but whatever."  
I coughed, which seemed to get her attention. "Why are they an idiot?"  
"Well... The whole baton thing was a coincidence at this rate, it happened to work out. The real reason's in plain sight in the student records. All 5 murders were 1st-chair brass players, specifically ones that had been playing only that instrument for 5 years or more, which, if you ask me, is why they're first chair in the first place. At this rate, I'll be able to work out who the murderer is after a simple conversation with the band teacher."  
"And..."  
"There are only so many students that would have a motive for killing all of the brass section leaders, Austin. And chances are, whoever it is is a multi-instrumentalist, who viewed them all as rivals."  
"And if you're wrong?"  
She smirked at me, one of the most genuine expressions of emotion I'd seen in the two months we'd been sharing a room. "Never been wrong, and never will be."

\- - - - -

Marigold seemed to know the band teacher.  
"Oh! Marigold!" He said, standing up at his desk. "Do you need a loaner or... ?"  
"Not today, Winters," she said confidently. "Just challenge records, thank you."  
"Why?"  
"Surely, you're aware of the fact that your section heads are dead."  
"Well, I mean-" he stuttered, but eventually gave up trying to rationalize Marigold's behavior, instead opening his laptop to load some sort of spreadsheet. Marigold had barely looked at it for 10 seconds when she closed it and handed it back to him. "Thank you, Winters," she said. "Now, would you happen to know where Olivia Hayes is tonight?"  
"She said something about studying for seminar-"  
"That'll be the library. Curses. Thank you!" She was already halfway out the door when I turned to follow.

\- - - - -

The entire way there, I was at least a meter behind Marigold, who seemed to be exhausted just from running to the door, but pushed through with urgency. 

When we got to the library, Marigold went around the side instead of through the front doors. Her train of thought was clear to even me. Whoever the killer was would be nearby, likely with an instrument case, waiting to snatch up the next victim. Marigold was tired and out of breath, but not willing to show it. 

As she slowed her walk, she turned around to face me. "Austin," she started, making sure to keep her voice to a whisper. "I need to you walk ahead of me. Expect a boy to lunge at you from the right, out of bushes, around 10 feet ahead. Dodge him, and don't let him stick you with the syringe, you'll be dead in an instant. That said, give me your phone, I hate the police, but we happen to need them." At this point, in the dark of night, knowing that Marigold likely had some sort of weapon on her herself, even if she wasn't skilled in using it, there wasn't much I could do but obey. 

Sure enough, 10 feet ahead, I heard a rustling sound from the bushes, and dashed forward, avoiding the boy.   
I didn't recognize him, but it was clear that he was confused and frustrated. As soon as he realized that he didn’t know me either, he yelled louder than was safe to in the situation.   
“Fuck!”  
He dropped the syringe, having realized I wasn't the victim the poison was meant for, and favored a knife he pulled out of his pocket. Of course, even that didn't last long. It happened before either of us could fully process it.  
Marigold was behind the boy, still desperately trying to catch her breath, but managing to hold a handgun firmly to his head, the other arm pulled as tight as she could manage around his neck (which wasn’t very hard). Through her quick breaths, I could just make out her words. "I can't have you killing my M.E. And yes, the law is on its way, I'm sorry you happened to not be the best at literally every brass instrument, but that's no reason to be killing people. And really, if you were going to go into that field, you need a lot more intelligence than you have."

\- - - - -

I was escorted back to the dorm by the campus police after Marigold yelled at them that I had nothing to do with anything. The boy was taken into custody. The last thing I heard Marigold say as I was walked away was a spirited "Fuck the Police!"  
She got back into the dorm in the dead of night, as always, seeming more annoyed than usual. Her muttering was also worrying. "Of course they had to email her. Fudge the drowning of Sara Berry incident. Fudge the fact that my life was in danger. I don't need to talk to Dahli- Oh, hello Austin, surprised you aren't asleep yet!" Upon noticing me, her face went from ‘kill me now’ to a blatantly fake smile.  
Marigold seemed unwilling to fully talk to me that night, and when I asked why, she merely responded 'government.' However, I did get to fall asleep to the trial-and-error process of a musician composing a piano piece, which when that musician is an exhausted, female, college student, colorblind Sherlock Holmes, is surprisingly more peaceful that you'd imagine. I fully believe that it'll turn out to be a great song.   
That said, can anyone answer me why Marigold hates the government so much? Anyone? It might just be that I'm an idiot, like she says, but I swear, there's something she doesn't want to talk about, and that’s the reason. If anyone for any reason knew her before college, can you tell me? I mean, chances are no one's reading this to answer, but who cares about that anyways?   
This was Anabelle Austin on how I survived college. I'll see you all again soon, hopefully still surviving.


	2. Symmetry in Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reasons behind Marigold's not being in jail for her habits may or may not be revealed.

So, remember what I said about Marigold's attitude towards the government? Honestly, I probably shouldn't be talking about any of this, but this is personal blog which at the moment has no followers - and has the possibility of being entirely fictional, mind you - so I doubt you'll take my words with much weight.

That said, the 5-day school week went by slowly when compared to the excitement of Monday's adventures in stopping serial killers. However, Saturday, when both Marigold and I were fortunate enough to have not been assigned weekend work, was far more interesting - and all because of one girl (woman?) that we met at a cafe. Marigold was not happy about it.

~ ~ ~ ~ 

Marigold had practically dragged me out of the dorm that morning, just barely giving me time to grab both of our laptops. As she did, she muttered something about 'meeting in neutral territory.'

Once we got there, I learned another thing about Marigold, the explanation for which would be delivered along with everything that came later - she has more money than you should ever trust a college freshman with. At first, when I asked, she said it was a 'family thing.' Technically, she wasn't lying. Anyhow, the first thing we did was get breakfast. It wasn't all that much better than the food from the Red Oaks cafeteria, but the scenery was a nice change. When Marigold told me not to worry about paying for myself, I was shocked. She put it all on her credit card, telling me "I have as much money as I need," as the cashier scanned it. 

When we sat down at the table, I learned about yet another one of Marigold's tendencies: Sugar-bomb Tea. She despises the idea of any sort of real drug (which I found odd for someone of her disposition who claims to be from San Francisco), so she makes up for it by drinking highly caffeinated green tea with more sugar than should be possible. She spent at least 10 minutes emptying raw sugar packets and mixing them into her tea. Afterwards, she glanced towards the door. It was unclear what she was looking for, but whatever it was, she didn't see it. After that, she opened up her laptop and began frantically typing.   
I ran around behind her to see what she was looking at, only to find her actively searching for more murderers. 

"And you call it a hobby?" I asked.

"Really, I don't need a job, not with my family's assets. But I get bored if I just sit around all day. Why do you think I play so many instruments? Why do you think I chase serial killers once a week?" When she glanced back at her computer, disappointment seemed to hit her. "Curses. All of them are out of state? I can't afford the time to fly out there... Not that she'd let me. Can't even fly these days without being tracked..."   
Honestly, even after learning who Marigold was, sort of, she still didn't make sense. Earlier that week, I had done some quick googling, figuring that, you know, someone as genius as her must have garnered some attention. After hours of trying different keywords and going down many internet rabbit holes, I only managed to find one thing - a news story from two years ago titled 'The Drowning of Sara Berry Incident.' Of course, it took me until I was halfway through the article to realize that I had heard the title before - Marigold had mentioned it Monday night after getting back from talking to the police. (Or rather, as I like to imagine it, yelling "Fuck the police!" as often as possible while explaining her deductions to them as if they were kindergartners.) Anyhow, here's the gist of what went down when Marigold was a high school sophomore, or rather, here's a summary of the 'Drowning of Sara Berry' Incident:  
A girl named Sara Berry went legally insane and started killing girls at her school, for reasons that are still somewhat unclear. This was the high school Marigold went to. From what I could piece together, the reason she got involved was the obvious one, but not one that was stated in the news report - she was investigating it. One night, shortly before the school's prom, Marigold ended up trapped in the school pool with Sara Berry, who tried to drown her. Marigold managed to get out of her grasp, but, unfortunately, couldn't stop Sara from drowning herself in the murder attempt. In my mind, her dying was probably for the best. That said, it’s the only piece of information I could find on her. Marigold wasn't given any charges, and was never mentioned by name. However, from a dimly lighted shot of her from the side, it wasn't hard to recognize her. Her icy blue eyes are hard to miss, and aren't like ones I've seen on anyone else.

~ ~ ~ ~ 

Anyhow, back to what happened today. After sitting around for a half hour or so, a girl Marigold's age walked into the cafe, didn't bother to order anything, and simply sat down at our table without a word. That is, to me.  
"Marigold," she started. "I thought I told you you shouldn't-"

"I'm fine, Dahlia," she sighed. "You can check. I'm 19 now. You shouldn't be concerned with me. Aren't you busy with your job, anyhow? I have more than enough money, I'm going to a good school. I don't have any symptoms of the irresponsible younger sibling. Hell, from the records, I'm not even actually the youngest, so can we just get through this quickly?"

"Who-" I started, but was quickly cut off by the other girl. The combination of Marigold's words and her appearance made things pretty obvious - she was Marigold's older sister, probably not by more than a year, maybe 2 at most. Her hair was at least twice as long as Marigold's, but the same shade of brown, and she took drastically better care of herself. Her eyes had the same effect as Marigold's - as though she was staring into my soul, and knew everything about me - but hers had a sort of green tint to them that Marigold's didn't. But then again, not all siblings are completely identical.

"Dahlia Fields," she said, turning to me. "I'd prefer that you don't mention me to too many people, Miss Austin. My job doesn't exactly encourage public relations."

"How do you-" 

"I had to know something about who my little sister's roommate was, after all, if you were too annoying, you'd likely be tied up in the closet with a gag by now."

Marigold butted in. "No, she wouldn't. Even I'm not that petty. And for heaven's sake, I'm not your 'little sister.' We were born a minute apart." 

"You have a twin sister?" I asked, astounded.

They said two very different things at the same time. Marigold response was "No, I have a government babysitter." Dahlia's was "No, she has a quadruplet sister." Both were equally confusing to unpack.

"First," I said. "Quadruplets?"

"Yes," Dahlia said calmly. "Though we have no idea who the other two are, they've been gone for a long time now. We don't like thinking about them. Stresses us out more than normal."

"Okay... Government babysitter?"

Marigold answered before Dahlia could deny her sister's claim. "Dahlia's the head of the FBI, but still somehow finds time to worry about me every other second."

"I just don't want you to go missing like the other two!" Dahlia said.

"Says the girl who views the government as family! I don't want to have to think about what you lot are up to, and you have better things to be doing!" 

“It’s not my fault they took us from our ‘real’ family, if such a thing exists. Other than each other, they’re the closest thing we have. And my embracing it has ensured that I don’t end up like the other two - or like you.”  
It took me all a second to comprehend. Marigold calmed down a bit, and then started talking again. "I just want to not have to worry about you, or the government at all."

"Then maybe you shouldn't do things like go around yelling 'Fuck the police.'"

Marigold smirked, finally closing her laptop, as though things had just gotten a lot more interesting. "You have to admit though, it was funny, wasn't it?"

Another sigh. "I guess... Just... Say it mentally in the future, all right?"

"Fine," Marigold said. "If you take back your orders to report me going around solving cases. You have to admit... I. Get. Things. Done. Much faster than they would."

I got the feeling sighing was the single most common thing Dahlia did. (Like, seriously, I swear, her grave is going to read 'Dahlia - She sighed before she lived.') But apparently, the smile on Marigold's face, along with some very convincing puppy dog eyes from someone I could have sworn was a sociopath, made Dahlia let it go. "Fine. Just keep your gun on you. You still have the tattoo?" 

Marigold pulled up the sleeve of her dress on her left arm, ever so slightly. First, let me say, I don't think I've been able to see veins as easily as that - ever. Second, and more importantly, she has a little tattoo hidden there in blue ink, more of a tag than anything else, of a number - 0.2. 

"Good," Dahlia said. "At least I know they won't take away your weapons."

At that point, I couldn't take it anymore. "You've got to be kidding me! You two were hired by my friends to prank me, weren't you? You're just like-"

Both of them cut me off at once. In total agreement, something that I found would become more common over time, but was always rare. "Fangirl." In that moment, both of them looked annoyed with me. Dahlia spoke alone next. "No, this isn't a prank, Anabelle Austin. We're very much real people, and we are just as intelligent as we seem. And like I said earlier, I'd prefer that you don't mention this to anyone. I'm sure even Marigold can agree with me on that." Marigold nodded. At that, both of them pulled out official IDs, labeling them both as 19 years old, born just at the beginning of the new year in Washington D.C. Marigold's had the same surname as Dahlia's: 'Fields.' It made me wonder why she never told it to me. And, true to their word, Dahlia was born exactly 1 minute before Marigold, her time of birth being 12:00 AM, and Marigold's being 12:01. They are real, people. And I. Was. Ten seconds away from screaming, until I remembered that Marigold carries a gun on her, and Dahlia, being a government agent, probably does the same.

That said, after that, Dahlia left, with Marigold in, surprisingly, a good mood. She even confessed to me that this encounter with her sister had been far better than their last. She did, once again, however, remind me not to tell anyone. So, I swear, if you are reading this blog, please don't tell people. They'll kill me. Actually. 

Before we left, I asked one more question to Marigold.  
“Marigold, can you speak in a British accent when you’re around me from now?”  
“Why?”  
“It uh… I’ve found that it helps me focus.”  
“Fine…” she responded, bored, in a perfect British accent. British? Check.  
That said, I can't help but think about all of the insane similarities Marigold has to certain... Other characters. And trust me, I will do my best to find more. I have a checklist of things to watch for.


	3. Just Friends (With Occasional Enemies)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marigold and Austin solve the disappearance of Austin's friends, and Austin learns a tiny bit more about Marigold's past in the process. (And so Austin begins her journey down the Fields Sisters rabbit hole.)

When December started, I wasn't surprised that Marigold didn't bother talking to Dahlia about Christmas. It didn't seem like the sort of thing that was in either of their natures. And in general, Marigold certainly didn't seem to take to the season the way most did. Instead of going out with friends, for her, the entirety of winter break was spent bundled up in the dorm, with lots of blankets, pillows, sugar-bomb tea, and hours spent researching on her laptop.   
However, much to Marigold's dismay, this time, she didn't find her case herself - rather, it showed up knocking at our door. I had told my friends about her quite a few times, but remembering Dahlia's comment about being stuffed in the closet with a gag, advised them to stay away from Marigold. They took my advice, for the most part, but joined me in wondering what else we could find about Marigold that we could connect back to our obsession. 

\- - - -

It was around 10 in the morning when May showed up knocking at the door. She was one of the girls I had told stories about Marigold to, and when I answered, she seemed a bit worried, but it went away as soon as she saw that Marigold wasn't, in fact, gone at the time. Remembering what I said about how much Marigold despised fan-girls, she whispered to me. 

"You guys aren't busy, are you?"

"No?" I asked. "You don't want to bug her, though, she'll kill you unless it's actually important." 

"It is, though!" she said, desperately preventing herself from speaking at full volume. "We all decided to go out last night, you know? After you left because she'll shoot her gun through the wall if you leave her alone for too long? Anyhow, I can't figure it out myself because I'm... Well... I'm a blackout drunk, and so is Lisa, and neither of us remember a thing, but... Aurianna is missing. None of us know where she went, and she's not responding to her phone."

"And why do you come to us?"

"Because. Last night, she was the only one that didn't actually drink. She was totally sober, I know that for sure, and all the others can echo that statement. We asked the police, her neighbors, everyone we can think of. She. Is. Gone. And the only one we think has a shot of finding her..." She motioned towards Marigold somewhat frantically. 

Marigold turned around. Honestly, I should have expected she was eavesdropping. "Missing persons case, then? Does she have a driver's license? Also, would I be correct in assuming that Lisa’s your roommate?"  
May was surprised, but it died quickly. After all, she had heard about what Marigold was capable of. "No," she said, straightening herself out as if it was necessary that she make a good impression. “Well, I mean, no, she doesn’t have a driver’s license. But Lisa is my roommate. She refused to come with me. Hungover… That and she doesn’t believe Ana here about your… Abilities.”

Marigold, unlike May, made no effort to make a good impression, staying in her pile of blankets. She hadn't even bothered to brush her hair this morning.   
"And how far away from campus were you?"

"T-too far to walk... At least, in the dead of night. We were downtown. If you're walking, that's at least an hour and a half. And at midnight? She'd never do that."

"Right," Marigold muttered. "You said you were intoxicated and as such don't remember what happened?"

"Yeah," May said.

"And the others? Was the missing girl the only one who was sober?"

"Uh... Yeah," May replied, clearly ashamed of how useless she was. 

"And you have absolutely no idea where she might have gone."

"No, the last thing I can remember is ordering another drink. That and waking up back in my dorm this morning with a killer headache."

"Can you give me an address? Of the bar?" Marigold glanced at me, nodding her head towards her desk. I ran over and grabbed a notepad and pen. May scrawled out the address, and I threw the notepad over to Marigold, who caught it easily, even from within her mountain of blankets. "Thank you," she said. "I believe there's something else you want to say?"

"Uh... Uh... I just... I really admire what you did last month and I want to get to know you better and you really remind me of- Bye!" She dashed out the door.

Marigold smiled a little bit. "Fan-girl." 

It took her only a few minutes to get ready, and after that, she rushed both of us out the door. Turns out, Marigold has a car.  
"Can you even drive? Being colorblind and all?" I asked. I didn't feel the safest with Marigold behind the wheel.  
"Of course. All people like me have to do is memorize what light position lights up for each command instead of the colors. Top means stop, middle means slow, bottom means go. Simple."  
"And signs?"  
"I can still read them."  
"Why are you even bringing me? There isn't a body... Yet."  
"Because. I work better if I talk out loud, and if you're there, they'll think I'm talking to you instead of myself, and they won't look at me weird. That, and you can talk to the police instead of me. The police and every other human being." She started the car, and didn't bother talking to me after that. 

\- - - - 

The bar wasn't open when we got there, but what bar is before noon? None that I know of. Fortunately, it appeared that the owner, or some other staff member, was inside. Marigold took no time parking as close as possible and banging on the door. It took a few minutes to get a response, but eventually the disgruntled adult, a few years older than us, opened the door.

"Whaddaya want?" He asked. He had dark circles under his eyes. "We ain't open."

"We're not customers," Marigold said, her blank facial expression never faltering. "Consulting investigator Marigold." I expected her to pull out a badge, but instead just flashed her ID, which seemed different from what most people had. Maybe it had something to do with her family's government connections. No, it definitely did. 

"Why're you government bitches here?"

"I don't work for the government. My family does, however, and I'm more than happy to call them if you don't feel like talking to the more friendly side of the equation."

He grunted, but didn't seem like he was going to kick us out. After that, he waved us inside and we sat down. Marigold grabbed my phone shortly afterwards, guessing the password without even looking at it, and opening up the audio recorder. 

"There was a girl who came here last night. She didn't order any alcohol. Her name was Aurianna Gardener. She is now the subject of a missing persons case, be one not yet professionally filed with the police. Tell me, what can you remember?"

"And why you need to ask me? She had got a ton of other girls with 'er."

"Said girls are unreliable, having consumed large amounts of alcohol during the time in question. So. What do you know?"

"She left in a car. Small one. Tinted windows. White. Toyota?"

"Model?" Marigold questioned.

"Uh... Too dark to tell."  
"Wonderful. We're downtown, do you know if there are security cameras that could have caught her?"

"You'd have to talk to the city for that... Not that a government bitch would have any trouble with that."

"Once again, I don't work for the government. And if you're thinking of calling the police after I walk out this door, don't. They won't do anything about it." Marigold walked out. I hurried after her, afraid that she'd drive off without me.

\- - - - 

Marigold only attracted a few weird looks at city hall, making me wonder if she marched through here often. Although, she could have made me wonder that by how confidently she walked alone. She passed through all of the security, and went straight to the desk where some sort of secretary sat. 

"I'll need security footage. Downtown. Hale Street. Outside the bar. From... Say... 12 AM to 1?"

"I can't just-" she cut off when she looked up and saw Marigold. "Oh. It's you."

"Yes. Ask whoever you need to. I'll wait as long as it takes. If you take too long for my liking I'll just ask my sister, and you can't say no to her."

The lady sighed, but called someone, and soon enough, we were being led down a dimly lit hallway. The man stopped in front of a door, which Marigold opened and walked through without hesitation. I followed, to be met with a wall full a screens, all of which were obviously showing security cam feeds. You'd think that the movie tropes about how security monitors were set up wouldn't be real. In that moment, it was quite the contrary. Marigold typed some sort of code into the keyboard, and all the screens, with the exception of one off to the side, went dark. From there, she typed in even more, and the screen flashed, changing from the pedestrians walking by on the street we had been on just a few minutes ago to the emptiness of the early morning - night, really. The time stamp in the corner of the footage read '11/30/20 . 00:20' There was a girl standing on the corner, who seemed to be desperately trying to get a cell signal. 

Marigold paused the video.   
"Tell me Austin, what can you tell me about the girl, what's happening, just from what we've already seen?"

"Uh... She seems a little nervous. Obviously can't get a signal on her phone, that's probably what's bothering her. Like the girls said, she seems totally sober. But... She's downtown. Why wouldn't she be able to get a signal?"

"I couldn't get one either, when we were down there. I don't think it's a large area, just a small dead space, one that people would think unremarkable. Clearly there for a reason. Has something to do with her going missing. Whoever made it didn't want to be caught, tracked. These cameras are well-hidden, but anyone with intelligence would take them into account. Which means that if this camera remains viable long enough for us to see the licence plate of the car she left in, there are two options. One, this is a petty crime and whoever's committing it isn't smart enough to really get away with it. Or... They wanted someone to see it, and it's part of their game."

She started playing it again. Just as she predicted, the camera remained active, with nothing in its way. Just as the owner had told us before, a small, white car pulled up. Aurianna looked towards it, somewhat fearfully, but then threw her phone down the alley near the bar, and climbed into the car, though hesitantly. It drove off just as fast as it had pulled up. Marigold paused and rewound the video to where we could see the car again.   
"Austin, you have a notepad, right?"

"Uh... Yes?"

"Take note of the symbol on that vanity plate, we'll look for it later. We're going back for the phone first," Marigold ordered.  
I didn't know the significance of the plate's decor yet. But one thing was clear. In the background of the unreadable plate number, there was a painted design of a California Poppy.

\- - - -

Back in the car, as we drove back downtown yet again, I asked her "How did you know it was a vanity plate?"

"Pixels didn't look like numbers," she replied simply. "And the state doesn't supply plates with a poppy design. Had to be custom, at least."

Eventually, she pulled the car over and dashed out into the alley. I hoped that no one had taken the phone. When I got back into the alley, Marigold had already found it. Looking over her shoulder, it was on low battery, and she had somehow gotten it open. "How did you get past the password?" "Emergency override. I assume she had that access option open for a reason. She knew what was going to happen. She knew someone was after. The only question is: Who? What did she do?"

Marigold opened the messenger, only to find all of her conversations, and her call history, deleted. It only took a few seconds to find that the same sort of total deletion had happened to the phone's photo library and internet history. She didn't even have any open tabs on her browser. "What do you know about Aurianna, Austin? She was part of your friend group."

"Not much, actually. I doubt May could tell you much earlier. One of the other girls, Lisa, introduced her. She hated talking about her history before coming to Red Oaks, like something bad happened."

"Do you even know which state she's from?"

"No."

"Wonderful... And I can't even pull out any sort of astrology the footage is too vague and in night vision... Normally I'd jump to name number calculations but chances are this isn't nearly as complicated as that if the kidnapper went for the cut-and-dry option of wiping the phone, or at least telling her to wipe the phone..."

The phone let out a chime. Within a second, the screen changed, indicating a call. Marigold sighed. presumably because it was audio-only, and didn't give a formal number or ID. Whoever was calling didn't want to be tracked. Marigold picked up the call, motioning to me to be quiet and putting it on speaker.

"Hello, Marigold!" A cheery voice called out from the other end. "You're doing pretty well. I fully expect you to find the girl. Maybe not me, though. I'm just pulling some strings. Not even with her right now."

"Poppyfield," she replied, deadpan.

The voice on the other end replied "Oh! You know my name! That's wonderful!"

"Why did you take her?"

"Just a Christmas gift. Figured you'd be bored." They hung up.

"Who was that?" I asked, confused more so than I had ever been, even if that confusion came from Marigold.   
"Old enemy," Marigold said. "Don't get wrapped up with her, she's just annoying." 

"But she took Aurianna."

"No, someone hired her to help them take Aurianna."

"Hell, that's like-"

"But the question is, who hired her?" Marigold cut me off before I could finish my comment. Annoying, but I understood why. Marigold's eyes lit up. "Aurianna lived on campus, right?"

"Yeah... ?"

"Roommate?"

"No, she paid extra for a single," I said. At least I knew that much.

"We've got a dorm to visit," Marigold said.

"And if the door's locked... ?"

"When there aren't police around, anything's legal," Marigold replied, a mischievous smile appearing on her face.

\- - - -

A hour later, we sat in a study room across from a police officer. His badge read 'Ethan Rivera.'

"Why... ?" He said, exasperated.

"Missing persons case," Marigold replied simply. "I apologize for breaking into a dorm, Rivera, but it was the only logical move."

"You couldn't have just told us about it?"

"You would believe me if I walked into the station telling you that I heard from someone in my dorm hall that when they were drunk the night before, their completely sober friend went missing?"

"I'd say the friend wasn't entirely sober and that whoever you heard from was wrong. She's probably just having a hangover in a city park, Marigold, let it go." 

"And this is why I can't go to you, or any other officer."

Ethan, or perhaps I should be saying Officer Rivera, sighed again. 

"You would have forbid me from investigating. And in not going to you, I spoke to the owner of the bar she was at last night, confirming that she was in fact sober, checked security footage and confirmed that she was taken - or rather, went willingly, and have found that she was most certainly aware of the fact that she was going to disappear. And, after being in that dorm for a minute or two, am confident that she'd been expecting that for quite some time. Tell me, officer, how long would it have taken your people to find that out."

"A week or two, but-"

"And this, officer, is why I don't work with you. Now, would I be correct in assuming that you won't charge me for breaking into a dorm that contained no personal belongings - a dorm that was essentially empty."

"Just... Don't make this regular," he sighed.

"Thank you, Ethan," Marigold said, smiling in a way that seemed only half-sincere.

Ethan walked around behind us to open the door. The second it was wide enough, Marigold stood up, straightened out her little tweed coat, and walked out. I got up to follow, and as I was leaving, Ethan whispered to me "How do you put up with living with her? I'd move out after a day or two." "Patience?" I responded, dashing to catch up with my semi-sociopath of a roommate. 

\- - - -

Surprisingly, Marigold went back to our dorm. When I walked in, Marigold was sitting at her desk, but not on her computer - or really looking at anything for that matter. Her head was in her hands, her coat was on the hanger, despite her having straightened it a minute before, and her hair was messy, out of its ponytail. 

"Jeez," I started. "Didn't know that you could go from put-together to a mess in the span of a minute or two."

"Shut up," she said. "You're mixing up the files." 

"Oh! You're doing the thing!"

"Thing?"

"You're gonna figure out the answer! I'll shut up now!"

"Thank you..." she muttered. Seconds later, she looked up at me and simply said "Phone."

"Her phone?"

"No, my phone, now. I hate relying on my sister, but I've got an idea and I need her help."

I handed her her phone, and she speed-dialed Dahlia within seconds. She kept off speaker phone, so I could only hear her end of the conversation.

"Dahlia?  
Yes, I'm fine. Can I have a favor?  
Yes, it's for a case. I need to know what's in any bank account under the name Aurianna Gardener. That's not too much?  
Why? She's missing, I think this is the next step in finding out where she is.   
Yeah, I can wait. Just call me when you know, all right.   
Yes, I promise, I won't tell anyone anything that doesn't pertain to the case. Bye!"  
"Her bank account?" I asked, unsure if my hunch was right about why Marigold cared.  
"Yeah, and this is Dahlia, so between the two of us, 'bank account' is really just simple talk for 'account totals, transaction history, and literally anything of interest.' We don't tell anyone."  
"So you're saying... She might have been in debt?"  
"Oh, good, you're catching on."  
"What are we going to do in the meantime?"

"Get May, so that she knows her friend will be safe within a few hours, and wait outside the bank."

\- - - -

May seemed far too hopeful as we sat on the steps of the bank waiting for Dahlia to call back. When she did, Marigold kept the phone on low volume again.

"Empty? Thought so.  
Yeah, I'm at the bank right now. I didn't expect the new one, but it really just confirms the suspicions I had.  
She'll be safe with me within the next few hours. Thank you, Dahlia. Stop laughing, I've asked you for favors before, just because I need classified information once in a while doesn't mean I'm reliant." She hung up. "We're going inside."

May looked at her, a bit worried, and I was too. When we got inside, it was empty. I mean, unsurprising for just before closing on a Sunday. The few employees that were still there were looking down at their phones. In the silence, they hadn't even noticed us coming in. I nearly panicked at what Marigold did next.

Dragging me and May behind her, she made a beeline for the security door leading to the bank's safes. It was just like any other bank security door - but that was the point. I did not want to be detained two times in one day. However, when we got there, she didn't shoot the glass, or kick it out, or anything else I would have expected her to do. Rather, she stopped dead, looking down at the lock mechanisms, before noticing a bar code scanner - probably meant to scan employees' IDs or something, in case they needed to take something out of a deposit box - and taking her coat off. She handed it to May, who looked confused, but wasn't about to object if this meant find Aurianna. Marigold began carefully rolling up the sleeve of her dress.

Last month, in the cafe with Dahlia, I had already seen part of Marigold's tattoo. This time, she rolled it up an inch or two more, careful not reveal any more skin than was strictly necessary (I couldn't tell if it was out of modesty or it there was more she was trying to hide) to reveal that just under the small number from last time - 0.2 - there was a bar code. Without hesitation, she ran it under the scanner, and it blinked green, opening the locks on the door. She dragged us through before doing the same with the safe. None of the employees even thought to check - after all, the security appeared to be letting us through just fine.   
One inside the safe, she closed the door on us. There appeared to be a way to open it from the inside, and chances of anyone hearing us were small, so as Marigold has pulling her tweed coat back on I asked what both of us were thinking. 

"What was that?"

"The bar code?" Marigold asked, not even bothering to glance at me before answering the question she assumed I was asking. "It's been there since I was a child, like the ID number. They really only tattooed it there to mask and keep track of the chip underneath it. Dahlia has one, too. Each chip is different, but the government made them all with the same basic purpose in mind. They can overload scanners in a way that essentially forces them to recognize our codes as correct. They run on a closed system, so they can’t be accessed remotely. Certain government buildings have scanners meant to deny us access, though. Courthouses. The White House. Congress. A few weapons bases. You get the gist. Don't use it often, but it's useful when it comes up. It's why I haven't removed the tattoos. That and, like you heard from Dahlia, all I have to do is show them off, and I'm allowed to take what I want where I want. Like having my guns on campus."

"That's..." May was even more astounded. She looked me straight in the eyes and said "Ana, you scored. Best. Roommate. Ever."

"You only think that because you don't live with her," I whispered back.

Marigold inspected the inside of the safe, while not-so-subtly listening to us. "Fangirls..." She sighed, before turning back around to us. "What can you tell me about the building?"

"Uh..." May looked around the safe. I’d never been in a bank safe, but there didn’t seem to be anything remarkable about it. “It’s old,” she stated, finally.

“Quite correct, Herald!” Marigold said happily. “And why do we know this?”

“The lower the number of a box, the sooner it’s been added to this safe. The boxes with the lowest numbers are all starting to turn green - implying that they’re oxidizing. Thea means they must’ve been here a while, at least 20 years. Probably more, though, because a bank would take good care of its deposit boxes, so… the building’s probably at least twice as old, if not even older. Anyhow, the point is, it wasn’t built super recently, per se. And uh… The desks and stuff out there looked pretty new, so it could be safe to assume that it’s only become an on-brand bank within the past few years, implying that, because of the age of this room, it was owned locally prior to the takeover.”

Marigold looked impressed. That at least, was out of the ordinary.

“What’s your major, Herald?”

“Art History.”

“What a waste…” She muttered. “You’re far better than average.”

“Oh - Uh… Thank you!” May replied, her voice an awkward combination of confused, embarrassed, and proud.

“So why exactly are we in a bank safe without permission?” I asked, kind of annoyed that I appeared to be the resident idiot in the room.

“Easier than going through a manhole,” Marigold replied. Grabbing at one of the older deposit boxes and prompting a relatively large portion of wall to swing forward, like a hidden door. 

“What?” I laughed nervously.

“Aurianna was taken away in a car. However, when Dahlia called me back, she told me what the police wouldn’t - that the car had been found at the bottom of a river upstate. Hardly the most creative solution, but effective. However, we know that Aurianna is still alive. Poppyfield is not one for killing without showing it to the world, particularly me. Now, what’s interesting is the fact that the underground lines in our city are particularly friendly to urban explorers and the like - far more so than subway tunnels, if you asked me. As such, we come to the conclusion that Aurianna Gardener is likely being held somewhere relatively safe underneath the city in response for not being able to pay off the mountain of debt that she - or someone using her name - managed to acquire.”

“Huh. So it really is that simple.”

“But of course, now, decent human beings first.”

\- - - -

The tunnels underneath the city were actually nicer than I’d imagined them. There was none of the grime or dripping sewage that movies would lead you to believe. Rather, we were met with a network of well-cleaned maintenance tunnels with electric, gas, and other lines running along the walls or ceiling. Marigold assured us that there were sections where it wasn’t as well-maintained, or there were in fact rivers of sewage or water, but that we wouldn’t be going anywhere near them. I decided not to ponder why exactly she seemed to know where she was going. 

“Why was there an entrance to these in the bank?” May asked.

“Well, for one, it’s a very old building, no one knows what secrets it might contain. That particular door actually is made up of real deposit boxes - with the exception of the one used to open it. It had actually been sealed off many years ago, but I got bored one night and used my chip to sneak in, check if I was right to suspect there was a door, and carefully broke down the seal over the course of a week or two using some pocket tools. You have no idea how many exacto-knives I went through. I first suspected that building had one of those doors upon noticing its ago and the fact that there’s a faded Freemasons’ symbol on the front steps.”

“And these tunnels?”

“They’re used for exactly what you’d think they’d be used for. Maintenance. Companies use them to more efficiently run and monitor their underground power lines. However, there as some storage rooms down here, which is where I believe our missing friend is. Now, ordinarily, there would be too many to check efficiently. However- Stop.”

Marigold froze, sticking her arms out to prevent us from going any further. In the tunnel, which could only fit about two people across, she had been walking ahead, with me and May slightly behind her. Ahead of us, the tunnel stopped, intersecting another, going perpendicular to ours. Even though we had stopped, I could hear light footsteps coming from the tunnel ahead.   
“Don’t. Say. A word,” she ordered, not even bothering to look back at us. She took a step forward, letting her arms down. 

Coming out of the tunnel to the left and turning to face us was another girl our age - but not Aurianna. Her hair was sleek and black, curled and up in pigtails. Her eyes were red, but with a slight bluish tint - she must have been wearing contacts. She and Marigold were around the same height, and they had the same body type - tall, thin, seemingly naturally graceful. But something about this girl was different, other than her base appearance. Though it was hard to tell through the layers of frilled skirt she wore, her body, unlike Marigold’s, might have been thin, but it was toned, muscled. It clearly wouldn’t be difficult for her to hurt us. 

And there was this weird effect she had, in terms of how I thought of her in regards to Marigold, and, for some reason, in regards to how I thought of Dahlia. When I pictured the 3 of them in my mind, if I was to use one word to describe each of them, based solely off of physical appearance, I, and I imagine a lot of other people, would call Dahlia ‘beautiful.’ She fit the media’s image of the ideal woman to a tee, except for how much she sighed and how annoyed she was with everyone around her. Marigold would be ‘pretty.’ Yes, she was conventionally attractive, but she had this look to her, as though she was fragile, and even more so, like she wasn’t open to talking to you. Unlike Dahlia, she didn’t produce a false sense of security. She let you know - she wanted nothing to do with you. As such, a term as personal and mature as ‘beautiful’ doesn’t exactly fit, so you leap to the next best thing. ‘Pretty.’ But this third girl, one whom I had never seen before, I would describe as ‘cute.’ She walked with a sort of confidence unlike Marigold or Dahlia’s - a playful confidence. Every move she made seemed to lead you on - not necessarily to get you to trust her, but as if she was open to everyone. She was dangerous, but these days, people like dangerous. 

“Marigold!” She called, almost as if she was restraining herself from singing it. I knew that voice. That had been the voice on the phone. What had Marigold called her… Poppyfield?

“Poppy,” Marigold responded, her face hardening into even more of an emotionless mask than it normally was.

“What’ve you got there, girlfriends? Or have you finally decided to use that brain for some fun and lured them down here to kill them? But no, that’s not like the Marigold I know. So it’s the first, right? You’ve got yourself a little harem, or something? I didn’t think you swung that way-”

“They’re not girlfriends, Poppyfield.” 

“Struck a nerve, have I? You called me by their name for me.”

“We’re not girlfriends!” I called. After all, it was awkward to think about. I lived with Marigold. If she was attracted to me for whatever reason… It just didn’t make sense. 

“Austin!” Marigold said. “I told you to be quiet!”

“I just wanted to say ‘hi,’ Marigold,” Poppy chided. “I have nothing to do with the girl being held in storage room 24. I mean, sure, I might have given the kidnappers a word of advice or two, but that’s not a crime. Not if I did it while drunk, especially. Anyhow, there’s nothing you can catch me for at the moment - not that you ever manage to keep me long enough for the law to actually get their hands on me. So I’ll see you again soon!” She skipped down the hall towards us, and Marigold stepped aside to let her pass, clear annoyance on her face. She pushed past me and May, before turning around for one final farewell. “Oh, and Anabelle Austin and May Herald! It was so nice to meet you both! Do make sure Marigold keeps herself around long enough to see me again, wouldn’t you?”

With that, she run down the tunnel, the frills of her odd, Lolita-like clothing flapping around her.  
None of us made any attempt to follow, Marigold least of all. When she was far enough away, Marigold let out a deep breath, and started to head down the tunnel the way Poppy had come.

\- - - -

Eventually, we made our way to a dark brown door with the number 24 painted neatly in the center. Marigold opened it without hesitation to find a dark room.   
She pulled her phone out of one of her tiny pockets, unlocking it and turning on the flashlight. Shining it directly into the room, we could see Aurianna tied to a chair, and no one else.

“Who the fu-” she started, before May rushed in, not bothering to ask Marigold to check for possible treats, and started untying Aurianna.   
Lucky for us, whoever had taken her was gone. 

“Marigold? Where did the kidnappers go?” I asked. 

“Poppyfield must have told them to leave. This wasn’t really about your friend, Austin, this was about her getting to know you. You’re of interest to Poppyfield now, the same way I am. And that’s not a good thing. That means that there’s no backing out of being involved with what I do Austin. And I’m not sure I like that. That said…” She turned away from me, back to the room, where May was still fidgeting with the leg ties, having undone the one’s on Aurianna’s arms. Marigold walked in, and quickly got one undone, causing May to step back and let her take care of the other.

“What was it?” Marigold asked Aurianna.

“What do you mean?”

“It wasn’t you. Look at you. Your clothes are more expensive than both Austin and Herald’s, you’re wearing makeup, though it is a bit warn off from, you know, kidnapping, and that watch on your wrist is not only analog, but an expensive model. How did you end up in debt, because it clearly wasn’t you?”

“It was a boyfriend,” Aurianna sighed. “He must have gotten my account information when I let him spend the night or something. I ditched him when I went off to college, so…”

“Boring,” Marigold said. “This, girls, is why I don’t get myself involved with such things. Clearly, the kidnappers only looked into the bank account the money was coming from, not the person doing the real spending. Classic mistake. You’re wealthy, I’m sure your parents will be able to handle it. After all, you went to boarding school before, and that doesn’t pay for itself.”

“How did you-”

“Austin has a graduation photo on her desk. Diablo Valley Preparatory. Boarding school less than a half hour’s drive from the college. You, Austin, Herald, and some other girl. Easy deduction.”

“Oh…”

From there, Marigold dragged us out and up through another door into a subway station, where we promptly left and called a cab back to Red Oaks. Marigold made little small talk to us, but we talked among ourselves, mostly about how stupid it was of Aurianna to let a guy into any sort of environment where he could get her bank account information - not that I would have done much better myself. 

\- - - -

When we got back, we all walked form the front gate of campus up through the many buildings to the residence halls, where we passed most to head to the back, where the now familiar limestone building that had become our home over the past few months waited for us, its name engraved above the door - Melpomene Residence Hall.  
Upon reaching the lobby, we went our separate ways, May offering to walk with Aurianna over to a counselor's office to talk about maybe switching their rooming situation and moving to triple - May, Aurianna, and Lisa.  
I slept uneasy that night, thinking about what Marigold had said - how I was of interest to Poppy. Poppy. The girl Marigold had said people hired to help them commit crimes. It wasn’t exactly reassuring to know that she was concerned with me. It also wasn’t reassuring to know that I thought she was cute. However, Marigold didn’t sleep at all, merely sitting on the floor between our two beds, eyes closed, but clearly awake. What she was focusing so desperately on, I couldn’t tell you. All I know is that she was still awake the next morning, and feel asleep at around noon. Thank god for weekends.


	4. Irregular Death Logs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Austin learns about people dying at the hospital without explanation. No, not because people are bad at their jobs. It goes where you'd expect. Or not.

With Christmas gone by without a word, and New Years’ as well, I found myself wondering when I would next be pulled into a mess with my roommate. For starters, she had actively avoided me on and around her birthday, seeming to not want it brought up. That and the fact that when I did manage to catch her again, and tried to talk about the previous case, either my friends or Poppy, she’d ignore me.   
As such, it was around mid-January before I got to experience anything other than stressful finals for my first-semester classes, which I only got through with lots of studying with May, Lisa, and Aurianna, and boring days without my eccentric roommate. It reminded me of when we had first moved in - she just wasn’t there.  
However, with the start of second semester, I started new classes, one of which was a medical history class. Initially, I wasn’t looking forward to it - until the teacher told us that we could earn extra credit, and lots of it, by observing proceedings at one of the local hospitals, since we wouldn’t really get to more modern developments until next year’s version of the course. He said that if we were interested, he’d write us wavers and we’d be allowed to help around - not with anything serious, but enough to learn some basics for field work.   
When I showed up on the first day, everything seemed perfectly normal. I was assigned to observe a nurse working in the children’s wing, got to cheer some kids up, and generally had a great time.   
However, about a week or two into my observation period, something seriously disturbing started happening. People started dying.   
Now, you’re probably sitting there saying “Austin, don’t people die pretty regularly in hospitals, despite everyone’s best efforts?”  
Well, they do, but it wasn’t the sick people that were dying. And I mean, yes, a few people who were sick or old did die, and it was sad, but those weren’t the deaths that attracted the attention of the staff, the observing students, and the general media. It was the fact that the perfectly healthy people were dying. Talking to the students who had seen it happen, it was said that they’d just… Drop dead, without warning.   
And so, I told the other girls about it before going to Marigold.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Just… Dead?” May asked, a look of confusion and possible horror on her face.  
“That’s what I’ve heard, I’ve never seen it happen, though.”  
“No way, it’s just some rumor,” Lisa said, sighing. That was about what I had expected out of her.  
“Says the rich girl who’s never had a real problem in her entire life…” Aurianna chided. She wasn’t wrong, though. Lisa was easily the most well-off of all of us, and had been the last to join our little group. It had been me, May, and Aurianna at school, then Patricia, a girl who’d become a bit more distant with college, as she lived in a separate residence hall, but still went out with us for drinks and such, and then finally Lisa, who we initially believed to only view us as charity cases, but eventually became a real member of the group. We still joked about her behind her back sometimes. We would do it to her face, but she is a tad touchy about that sort of thing.   
“You’re still annoyed I didn’t side with May in wanting to get your… Missing-ness… ‘Officially’ looked at?”  
“I side with May, and appreciate her, because May was right.”  
Lisa sighed. “One time. And I still think it was a fluke Austin’s antisocial roommate found her in a sewer.”  
“Marigold’s real, you know that, right?” I asked Lisa, to no avail.  
“Oh, I think that you definitely do have an antisocial roommate named Marigold Fields, but I refuse to believe that she can deduce as well as you say and that her sister is a government entity. That stuff’s too good to be real.”  
“Have it your way…” May said. “I think she’s better that Austin makes her seem.”  
“That’s because you’re only a bit less of an insufferable fangirl than Austin.”   
“We’re getting off topic,” I interjected. “So. Dead people. Do we tell the sociopath, or no?”  
“I say we tell her, we can’t have her shooting her guns out the window or at the wall or something,” May said. Then the worried look on her face came back. “Wait, she hasn’t done that yet, has she?”  
“Not yet,” I told her. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if she did do that when she got too bored.”  
“If she’s going to do that, I put my vote towards telling her. She does seem… A bit not good. But she did kinda save me, so all the better if she can help someone else,” Aurianna said. “Just uh… Keep her away from me. Like I said… I bit not good.”  
“I think Austin’s making up the whole thing because she thinks she’s not getting enough attention. Or that being a medical student considering military service with a very convincing fake limp on occasion isn’t enough for us. Which, if you ask me, is already too much. She could have stopped at ‘Medical Student.’” Lisa. Always the one to… I don’t want to say ruin things, but…  
“Well, you’re outvoted.” May glared at Lisa just a bit. Which, coming from nice little May, wasn’t too threatening. I didn’t want to think about what it would be like coming from Marigold. “Austin, go tell the sociopath, we'll keep this one busy. I think Patricia’s been having trouble with her laptop, and that’s not good for a journalism major.”  
“Just because I study computer science does not mean I’m you’re repair person!” Lisa complained.

When I got back to our dorm, Marigold was sitting on her bed with a flute and a pile of blank sheet music, looking a combination of bored and frustrated - which was bad when it was Marigold you were talking about.  
“Composer’s block?” I asked.  
“Yes, disappointingly. Rare for me, but near impossible to get past when it is there. I suppose Euterpe just isn’t on my side today.”  
“You - What?”  
A defensive look crossed Marigold’s face a for second, as if she might have said something she shouldn’t.  
“Euterpe. E-U-T-E-R-P-E. The Greek Muse of Music. There’s a residence hall named after her here, you know. Just like how ours is named Melpomene, for the Muse of Tragedy.”  
“Well I’m sorry if I’m not a mythology scholar,” I scoffed. “Anyways, you can put the sheet music away, I think I’ve found us a case.”  
That got her attention.  
“Really?”  
“Yeah, people are randomly dying over at the hospital.”  
“It’s a hospital, people are just doing their jobs poorly.”  
“No, you’ve got it wrong,” I explained, desperate not to lose her. “The visitors and staff are dropping dead without explanation.”  
“And no one’s already addressing it? You know how I hate dealing with the police when I’m working…”  
“Not that I last checked… They’re alone, or in a place where there aren’t really possible murder weapons. Everyone assumes that it’s like spontaneous human combustion or something equally inexplicable.”  
Marigold shoved her flute and music under her pillow and ran to grab her shoes and jacket. “Do you still have reservations about me driving, Austin?”  
“N-no…” I stuttered, surprised that her demeanor had changed so suddenly.   
“Good.” Then, she pulled me out the door.

~ ~ ~ ~

Surprisingly, Marigold didn’t barge into the hospital the way she did with several other locales. Rather, she asked me to take the lead and politely let me get us through the security using my students’ pass. Once we were out of the waiting rooms, and actually in the corridors of the building, Marigold tried to figure out where to start.   
“Where did the last one happen?”  
“I don’t know… I’ve never seen one, and there’s no telling what happened before we got here. Without a sure location, pouring through security feeds seems…”  
“No, you’re right. I need something more… Concrete. Do we know if these people are on the hospital’s death records?”  
“Even if they are-”  
“You forget what we do during these investigations, Austin.”  
“Right… We don’t ask. It seems like only common sense they would be? They died in the hospital, after all. Wait, wouldn’t they be in the morgue?”  
Marigold face lit up with a smile. “That’s the best I’ve ever heard out of you, Austin! Does the pass get us in there?”  
“Actually, yes. Something about them wanting us to see as many different areas of the field as possible and there being a shortage of people in that particular area with actual medical degrees and-”   
“You know where the morgue is?”  
“Yes?”  
She gave me an expectant look, then nodded. I started walking. 

I had been in the morgue once before, on my initial tour, but it still shocked me with how sterile it all was. There didn’t appear to be anyone in there at the moment, which I thought was odd, but Marigold seemed to ignore, in favor of looking around for anything that might point her to the necessary corpses. There weren’t any out on the tables at the moment, implying that most, if not all, were in the storage units, safely refrigerated.   
“Do you know of any identifying factor that could help us right now?”  
“Nope. But I can tell you if I recognise anyone.”  
“Right.”  
With that, Marigold began opening random compartments and showing me dead bodies to see if I could find anyone who might have died without reason. After around 20 compartments of “what happened here” or “shame they had to go” or “nope,” we happened upon a mostly healthy-looking young woman - who I did recognise.   
Just as Marigold was closing the door, as we had been going pretty quickly, I nearly yelled at her “Wait! I know this one!”  
“Patient, or unexplained?”  
“She was perfectly healthy just the other day! She’s the mother of one of the kids in the children’s wings. Her daughter is in for…” I had seen a lot of kids that day, it was a miracle I even remembered this much. “Broken something?”  
“So she’s what we’re looking for?”  
“She’s our best bet,” I responded, trying to swallow the dread I felt. A little girl had just lost her mother. I was looking at someone who had been in this world one moment and out the next, without explanation, someone who would never come back.   
“Well, then. I doubt we want to be caught here looking at dead bodies without supervision…” Marigold trailed off, pulling a familiar set of sample vials and tools out of her pockets, handing them to me. I started my work quickly, ignoring that guilt that wouldn’t go away.

~ ~ ~ ~

Walking out of the hospital and back to Marigold’s car, she was careful to act as though we had definitely not just taken semi-illegal samples from a corpse. In any case, by the time we had arrived back at Red Oaks, I managed to clear my conscience and focus on the fact that we would get to the bottom of this, and not leave those hurt by it in the dark.  
After parking, she hurried me over to one of the labs and had me run similar tests to those done during our first case. At first, the samples seemed mostly normal - nothing truly out of the ordinary - until I noticed something I recognised.   
“Marigold? I might be wrong, but is this iron gall?”  
She looked up from some of the other results, which she didn’t seem too happy with, and hurried over.  
“Yes. Jackpot.”  
“How’d they administer it? There weren’t any sort of external injuries and…”  
“They could’ve ingested it without knowing.”  
“Wouldn’t they have known, though. This stuff isn’t exactly easy to miss - even when it’s not bright blue.”   
“There are many possibilities Austin, from it being hidden somewhere where its color would go unnoticed, to being contained within some sort of pill or other device that would allow for-” Marigold stopped. “Does the hospital have a kitchen or a cafeteria or-”  
“Yeah, it has a cafeteria.”   
“Wonderful. We’ll start there. It couldn’t have been in any sort of drink, so it must be in a real food. You said that these deaths are happening one at a time, fairly close together?”  
“That’s the rumor,” I started.   
“So, if it’s anything like the school cafeteria, one could assume that there must be at least one poisoned dish out at a time. The one person eats it, the poison is administered in such a way that it doesn’t take effect for some time, and they die after leaving the cafeteria. The perfect alibi.”

Okay, I’ll admit, we got some weird looks when Marigold basically bought out an entire food supply from the entire hospital cafeteria. However, she did pay for it, and she didn’t throw it out - rather, she gave it to other people, giving priority to those who couldn’t pay for food themselves.   
Now, you’re probably asking why she would hand it out if there’s poison somewhere in there. That’s the issue - she didn’t find any poison. She checked every piece of food we got, and there was nothing to suggest poisoning. Yeah, a lot of it was crumbly by the end of the couple of hours it took us to check, but the sort of people that got the food wouldn’t care - they just were glad they weren’t starving.  
That said, Marigold was uh… A little annoyed.  
“Why? They couldn’t possibly have known, meaning that it must not have been someone who worked in the cafeteria in the first place! But if people are eating it, then how is it being administered? Certainly not through water. That’s obvious. Where could they be getting-” She stopped dead and turned around to stare at the wall, or rather, something against the wall. A vending machine. “Of course,” she whispered.  
“That actually makes a lot of sense,” I said, and we ran over to the vending machine.  
Marigold bought one of everything, saying that we’d come back if we needed to check again. 

~ ~ ~ ~

Back at Red Oaks, we engaged in our second round of tearing food apart for the sake of saving lives. Thankfully, there was a lot less of it this time around. After tearing through a number of granola bars, candies, and even a few packs of jerky or - very weirdly - plain slices of bread, we found what we were looking for. I tiny, round, pill-like thing hidden in one of the last few granola bars.   
Running tests on it revealed the same iron gall that I had become familiar with.   
Marigold drove us back to buy a few more of the same brand of granola bar - and more from every other hospital vending machine she could find - to check for the pill. Her smile grew with each one we found. She knew exactly what was going on, it was clear. 

However, catching the killer proved to be a little more difficult. Marigold concluded that it was probably a janitor, as they restocked the machines. Luckily for us, there was only one janitor, as the hospital was small and local. It was the fact that we needed proof that was annoying.   
At first, Maring wanted to catch them stocking a machine with the poisoned food, but then I pointed out that the bars were sealed in plastic packages, and the pill was positioned in a way that you couldn’t see it at all - the person not knowing what was in them would be taken seriously, even if it was an act. This lead to a more complicated plot, which involved lock-picking the janitor’s closet.   
It started when Marigold stopped me from running out the door, pulling me back into the dorm and giving me a rather serious look.  
“We’re not leaving yet.”  
“What?”  
“I want to do this after hours, it makes getting caught less likely.”  
“Then shouldn’t we go there and then hide out.”  
“No,” she said. “We sneak in through the E.R.”  
“That sounds… Not good.”  
“Only if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

And so, we left just after the hospital closed, and Marigold carefully snuck us through security and I avoided panicking. Marigold said not to worry about the security cameras, and that if we really were worried about them, we could just figure out some way around it later.  
The closet wasn’t too hard to find, thankfully. Unlike most of the doors we had snuck through, it couldn’t simply be overloaded, and was actually locked. However, none of that mattered when Marigold pulled a bobby pin out of her hair. She first made sure that we were alone - we were, who’d be hanging around a janitor’s closet - and then bent the pin so that it was straight and carefully moved it around in the lock. It took a second, but soon enough, I heard the lock click open.  
Upon opening the door, it was clear why Marigold wanted to do it that way. Inside, there was the necessary equipment for undoing and redoing the food’s packaging, as well as - unsurprisingly - a box of the iron gall pills. Marigold was quick to take out her phone, snap a few pictures for evidence, and get us out of the room without a trace, relocking the door, which took longering than unlocking it. After that, we were left with the harder part of this - getting out.  
Apparently, Marigold hadn’t planned for this. She only realized after we were in that people might be more likely to notice us walking out because they hadn’t noticed us going in. So, we did what I would have considered legal suicide, but Marigold assured me would be fine. We texted the police with the photos.  
More specifically, Marigold texted the officer that had lectured us after we broke into Aurianna’s dorm, with an explanation of what the photos were and why we didn’t want to leave the hospital. 

~ ~ ~ ~

It took under 20 minutes for the police department to show up and open up the closet themselves, to find exactly what we had seen. However, when they explained to hospital staff what was happening, which Marigold stuck around just long enough to hear, we learned that the janitor in question had taken a sick day. I thought that Marigold might insist on going with the police to hunt them down at their house, but she surprised me when we went out to the car and started driving back to campus.  
“Wait, you don’t want to find them?”  
“I know the basics of who did, and how they did it, they’re getting put away, and no one else is going to die. Do I really need to know why they did it? It’s probably boring and stupid and I’d rather get back to my piece or - heavens forbid - sleep.”  
“Oh. Right. You sleep.”  
This actually got her to laugh a little bit.   
When we got back, she did, in fact, sleep. Or at least, pretended to sleep. I was left thinking to myself about how unexpected her reactions to the conclusion were. That said, we had wasted a few days and avoided Marigold shooting her gun out the window. That’s a good job in my book.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!  
> So, I honestly don’t know how much of a readership this has, but thank you to anyone who is giving it a chance! I hope you’re enjoying it!  
> Sadly, I won’t be able to post a chapter this week, as I’m taking a break from writing pretty much anything, as I’m experiencing some problems with my wrist at the moment and taking a break from typing all the time seems like one of the best things for that.  
> Once again, sorry! But I promise that it will resume again once I figure out what’s going on and/or the problems go away. Thank you for reading, and as always, feel free to leave your thoughts & criticism, it’s greatly appreciated!


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